


Almost Forgotten

by Symmet



Series: Unfinished Thoughts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, hint: definitely NOT lucifer, in which Sam is creepier than Lucifer, rated triple A for Angsty As fAck, who thought it was possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As of now unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sam has no memories after the pit and Lucifer is not sure how to feel about that.
> 
> (on one hand, yay no memories so manipulation and control should be easy! Oh wait, on the other hand, I have strange feels about him not being the same person at all and whoops I miss the Sammy that I knew).
> 
> In which Lucifer is shit outta luck.

"I've mostly forgotten them," Sam mumbles as he digs his fingers into the cracks in the pavement behind him.

  
"All of them?" the man murmurs in soft surprise, but Sam isn't looking so he doesn't see how his face expression hangs in the light, caught between hopeful and lost.

  
"There are no more names, and there are almost faces. Maybe the idea of faces." Sam says, now hunched over his hands, picking at the scabs on his fingers and peering at the dirt underneath his nails, a small giggle escaping him.

  
"Stop that," the man snaps, perturbed by the child-like behavior, striding forward to cover Sam's hands in one of his own in a moment of quiet desperation.

  
Sam looks up sharply, flinching at the sudden intrusion.

  
The man has blue eyes, Sam notices. His stubble seems forgotten, but Sam can't for the life of him imagine a full beard in its place.

  
The man seems to realize himself the moment their eyes meet. He withdraws instantly, avoiding further contact. But Sam is no longer interested in the spiral of his finger prints, focus now piqued on someone else. He tilts his head, a small smile of interest spreading over his face like melted wax, "Why?" Sam asks, eyes riveted on the man, who frowns but still avoids his gaze.

  
He doesn't answer.

  
"Because you knew me, didn't you? Before." Sam guesses, before the Now, the What He is Now. He grins in delight when the man's head snaps up in alarm. He claps congratulatory applause for his efforts, because he doesn't have any gold star stickers.

  
"Sam" he says mournfully, but Sam is having none of it.

  
"That's how I can tell, you know. I mean, you can't say it like that and think I won't notice." His mouth is open now, like a smile, like a dog smiling, shaking a finger gleefully at the man he doesn't know to call Lucifer.


	2. Chapter 2

At first Lucifer had been pleasantly surprised. Pleased, even.

Sam had nothing left in his memories after the cage, no biases against Lucifer, none of that awful, hampering loyalty to Dean.

It had seemed like a blessing.

Being brought back had broken his mind, much like it would break that of a vessel not suited to housing an archangel but being forced into it anyways.

Except Sam _was_ an archangel’s vessel. His was stronger stuff, the kind that adapted, bent rather than broke, but now Sam’s mind was a labyrinth, too twisted for even Lucifer to peer into with security.

He was beyond Lucifer’s reach, and that was terrifying, now, Lucifer was quickly becoming acquainted with that realization, and he was starting to understand the very human concept of desperation, a feeling he _did_ not like.

Sam was too far gone.

Or maybe it wasn’t even Sam anymore.

And that was even worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh _dear_.

“You don’t want to have to deal with it.”

Sam has been babbling for the past two hours that Lucifer attempted to clean him, brush down the matted hair, scrub the grimy skin, wash the dried blood from under Sam’s finger nails.

Most of it had been nonsense, empty words and noises that Lucifer could tune out.

Most of it.

Lucifer stills, hands firm where they had stopped Sam from beating himself, vice-like around the other man’s wrists.

He makes the mistake of eye contact with Sam, who catches the motion and grins, wolfish, “All the nasty little human bits, you don’t like having to bring yourself down in order to deal with them.”

He tilts his head until they both hear his neck give a little pop of despair, because he keeps going, as if to twist it all the way around, and Lucifer throws him down half as an effort to stop Sam from hurting himself and half as if he’d suddenly mistaken Sam for a very large, repugnant bug.

Sam lay on the ground, laughing, laughing.

Lucifer knows now that this is punishment, punishment on both of them, but only for his own crimes.


End file.
